iServe
by SirRay
Summary: Thousands of American Servicemen from across the US are deployed. Putting service before self. Sacrificing time with their families. This is the story of one of those families.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. I am in no way associated with iCarly, Schneider's Bakery, Nickelodeon, MTV Networks, or Viacom. Any similarities of characters, places, or situations, real or fictional, are purely coincidental, unless is state otherwise. This story is for my own entertainment and I make no claims of any type of ownership. However, please don't duplicate or replicate this story. I will not make any money from this story.

A/N: I wrote this before I gave up on the iCarly series, and with the 9/11 anniversary last weekend, I started thinking about this part of Carly and Freddie life together. This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series, and at this point in time, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college.

iServe

Late 2016

Everything seemed to happen so suddenly, despite the fact that I have known for years that this career path could lead to events like this. Now it's happening, and I'm shaking, that's how scared I am. I have been standing at this window at the Passenger Terminal on Joint Base Lewis-McChord looking at an empty aircraft parking spot. The C-17 military cargo plane carrying my Second Lieutenant Fredward "Freddie" Benson left five or ten minutes ago. Why had the idea of supporting Freddie throughout the ROTC program seem like such a good idea at the time, knowing he would become an Air Force Officer, and knowing we would most likely end up moving somewhere else? I have spend most of my life in Seattle acting like mother to my brother, trying to keep Sam out of trouble, studying for school, working on iCarly, and then four more years studying at college. I guess I saw his career as a way to see the rest of the world, find some adventure, and I do get a sense of pride when I tell someone that my husband is a United States Air Force officer. It seemed like a good idea, but now he is going over there for a year. I think I knew this could happen, but I chose not to think about it. Now I am scared that I will lose my Freddie. I let out a loud groan, "Was this what I really wanted?"

"Sorry, I didn't understand you, can I help?" an older woman in an Airman Battle Uniform asks, looking a little worried. She is a little taller than me and had light brown hair with streaks of gray in a tight bun. She appears to be in her late 40s, and with her look of self-discipline, she is very professional and a little intimidating.

Mrs. Benson, standing next to me with her arms around my shoulders, answers for me, "Thank you, but we're okay. My son, her husband, just left for his first TDY to Bagram."

I look at Mrs. Benson, and I am shocked to see tears on her cheeks. I turn toward her and gave her the tightest hug I could muster. I see the other lady has Senior Master Sergeant stripes on her sleeves.

She had a small smile on her face now, "Well, my son is also on that plane, and I have also been over there. They will be all right."

I couldn't bring myself to leave that window. Moving would mean that I am okay. I'm not. I know I can be selfish at times, but I just can't help myself, I want my Freddie back. As much as I support the military and I appreciate the sacrifices of our servicemen, but right now I just can't comprehend the idea that my Freddie is an active duty officer and deployed. Why him?

Mrs. Benson had to walk me back to the van.

I haven't been outside Bushwell Plaza since then.

The days pass slowly, and they are all the same.

Maybe I am in denial.

I wake up tired every morning at the same time. My entire body feels numb. Every day, I wear something of his, and huddle on the couch with his notebook computer and my phone waiting for his daily e-mails and sometimes daily phone calls, and I keep switching between the cable news channels and web surfing looking for news of what's going on over there. That couch became my place. That place quickly became littered with tissues as I would erratically start crying and would have to be comforted by my brother, Sam, or Mrs. Benson. Spencer remembers watching mom as she worried about dad, but he is so used to dad being TDY, he can't understand what I am going through. Sam tries to help me, but she has no one in the military, so she just can't comprehend what I am going through. Mrs. Benson does understand. Then every evening, I would fall into bed for another night of bad sleep. It is almost like I am dreaming a nightmare. That became my routine. I just wish this was a nightmare; you can wake up from a nightmare.

That routine lasts about a week before I wake up.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about, but I found myself sitting up in my bed screaming. The bed sheets are soaked with my sweat and my body is hurting. It feels like my heart is trying to beat itself out of my chest. As I tremble and gasp for breath, I look around my dark room. It is just so empty. How do other women do this? Did they wake up from nightmares and have trouble breathing? I jump out of bed, grab my robe, and run pass Sam and Spencer to get to his apartment.

I find myself seating on his old bed, in his old bedroom, crying on Mrs. Benson shoulder with her arms around me. I am crying for what's missing in my life and what I might lose. I am regretting my choice of letting Freddie enlist. Why did I have to give up half my heart and sent it to Afghanistan.

She whispers, her voice thick with emotion, "Carly, you are going to worry yourself to death watching TV news non-stop. It's not going to bring him home any faster and hiding from the world isn't going to make the pain go away. You will just waste away, then what would Freddie be coming home to? A wife who couldn't live for him while he's fighting for us? Sweetie, you have graduated college and you have time to do some great things."

"Great things," I laugh/cried. "I remember when I was a kid; I had dreams of being a princess and being rescued by my knight in shining armor. By the time I was a teenager; I had dreams of being an actress in movies and TV. But I never evened consider carrying on our family military traditions. Right now, I am cursing the future I am living. I don't know if I can handle this."

"Trust me, I know this is not a lifestyle for the weak, but I know you are a strong woman. When Freddie signed up, they didn't tell you that you would be serving right with him. You may not be in the warzone, but your war is more personal. Carly, it takes a special woman to be a military wife. All marriages require each of you to work together to make the marriage strong, but being married to a serviceman has additional jobs. His job is to protect us from all threats, and your job is to protect him, by loving him and by taking care of the homefront when he is gone. He's may get a parade and be called a hero, but believe me, you are also a hero but you will not get a parade. Welcome to the world of the Silent Ranks."

"Okay Carly, this is what we are going to do. We will take this one day at a time, but let me tell you from personal experience, some of those days will be hell, but you will survive. You won't have to do this alone because you have your brother, Sam, and me. So are you are going to be alright tonight?" She asks with concern.

I blink away some tears and try to dry them with a tissue. "I'm finding that I can't sleep in my bed without him, and I have been having panic attacks each night since he left. Please, can I sleep here?" I try to give her a smile, without crying again.

"Sure Carly. You are always welcome here, and it's going to be okay. I miss my baby too. The most important thing to remember is that despite the time or distance that separate the two of you, you two began this life together, and by the Grace of God, the you two will end it together. Good night Carly." Mrs. Benson kisses my forehead.

The next morning, I think about my brave husband doing his job in Afghanistan. He wakes up each morning with a clearly defined mission, but I have to figure out my mission. That's the problem. At some point in our relationship, my Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson became my mission. Even with the help of family and friends, I don't know what do to without him. If I am lucky, I can find my new mission in life with honor and dignity that my husband will be proud of. So, with only half a heart, I get out of his bed and set out to do just that.


	2. Chapter 2  iCare

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Fredward "Freddie" Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle.

A/N: A special thank you to bandgrad2008 for the most heartfelt review I have ever received.

Chapter 2

iCare

Early 2017

_Dear Freddie,_

_You must be wondering why I'm handwriting you a letter. Well, your mother said that it would be a good way to cheer you up on your first deployment. She said something about a letter is better than e-mail, but it is not as good as a phone call. We also think that you would be missing a few things so we also made you this care package. Sam (don't worry, nothing dangerous or embarrassing) and Spencer helped, and Gibby, Tasha, and Wendy contributed photos and videos on the USB drives. Your mom double-checked everything to make sure it meets military regulations. We still have the copy of the Deployment Guide from our pre-deployment briefing. I know it's not much, but hopefully it will make your stay there a bit brighter. Make good use of the stuff, but I'm sorry we couldn't send some Galini's Pies or some cupcakes. Your mom and I made some cupcakes to test their shelf life, taste, and see if they could survive shipping. The Guide said mail may take up to two weeks to get there, so we don't think they would be good to eat by the time they got to you._

_Check out the USB drives and the small photo album and laugh a little. You can brag to your fellow airmen about your sexy wife and hot looking friends. Your mom would not let me sent our more interesting photos; like photos of you, me, and the girls from our weekends of fun and games. Those photos would probability be considered "pornographic or sexually explicit photograph" as listed in the "SUMMARY OF PROHIBITED ACTIVITIES" in the Guide._

_Your mother reminded me to remind you, even if it is wintertime, that since you are in a desert you are to use sunscreen. I know how much you hate stuff like that from the "cloud-block" days, but you are living in a desert. So for goodness' sake, put the sunscreen on! Use it liberally; spread over your face, neck, and any other exposed areas of your body. You must take care of your complexion. A little bit of a tan can be sexy, but to much sun? You know how sick you get when you get sunburn._

_I did not "freak out" as you not so delicately put it in one of your e-mails. I am only concerned, and I well should be! Times like these are when I realize you have the ability to cheer me up. During all our years together, if I had a problem you would always come up with a solution that always made me feel better. Right now, all I want is for you to be here with your arms around me. So until you are back in my arms, I will worry about you. I miss you._

_Your mom, Spencer, and Sam try to keep me laughing. Your mom is getting me involved in her volunteer work on base and encourages me to __audition__. Spencer, with his crazy antics, art work projects, and beer drinking. And of course, you might not recognize me when you get back, since most of Sam's methods involve food. I'll going to have to add some more miles to my jogging to counteract "Operation Cheer Up Carly."_

_A funny thing happened at yesterday's audition for a TV commercial, the producer had a big bowl of fruit on the table. There were pineapples in it. I couldn't stop giggling because I remembered Spencer telling us about how pineapple juice would make you taste better. But you don't need it, so I never bought any. But I couldn't stop thinking about Little Freddie for the rest of the day. Sam still thinks pineapples are just for hitting and not for eating._

_Please e-mail or call (as often as you can) or write back to me, or your mom, or anybody here at home. So don't hold back if it gets to be too much over there. I know it's not good to be away from love ones. We are here for you, and don't forget that. We all miss you._

_Love; from you're concerned but perfectly sane wife, Carly Benson_

_P.S. Do you need anything? Just call out if something strikes your fancy._

_P.P.S. Everyone here is proud of you and wonder when you will be coming home.  
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I neatly fold the letter in equal thirds, and carefully place it in an envelope. I seal and write Freddie's name on it in a feminine style and drop it next to the small photo album in a medium-sized rectangular box. I pick up a few of his small belongings and set them neatly in the box, and carry it to the kitchen table where Mrs. Benson has collected his favorite hygiene products that he said he can't find at the small BXs there.

"Good morning Carly, you have some things for his care package?"

"I picked a few things, and you were right. The simple act of writing a letter helped a lot."

"You miss sharing your life with him. A letter is one more way you can be together. We may be able to talk with him on the phone from time to time and keep in touch through e-mail; a handwritten letter is something your husband can cherish as you took the time to create it especially for him. That letter and the other things in this care package will help kept him going during this first deployment. Small toys, candy, sweets, and the other small mementos can play a role in keeping him connected with home. And for a little while, a care package is a nice distraction from the constant work on a military base in a far off land."

"It's just a comfortable reminder of home," as I watch her place a one pound bag of an expensive good tasting instant coffee, a box of hot chocolate mix, a mug with our old iCarly logo, her sealed envelope, and a few cans of "…chipped beef and gravy?"

"Freddie's father introduced SOS to us after he returned from a TDY in Germany. He fell in love with creamed beef on toast, and all the variations of it, while there. So SOS graced our dinner table whenever he could talk me into cooking it. Many veterans have told me that SOS was one of their favorite meals, even years after their service ended."

I give Mrs. B a questioning look, "S.O.S.?"

"SOS has several meanings, but Shit On a Shingle, with the shingle being a slice of toast, is the best known way of describing that culinary dish."

"Okay, memories from his childhood with his father. That why he sometimes wants to made it with ground beef. Other times he likes it with thin slices of ham in the cream sauce. The coffee and hot chocolate will help him keep warm this winter. I'm sure Freddie will appreciate the thought we put into this care package."

"Sending your deployed husband a care package will remind him that your thoughts are with him, and will help him to feel closer to his family. It's sad, but some of our troops feel like they have been forgotten when they deploy, but when they get a letter or package, even from a total stranger, they get a morale boost."

I hugged my mother-in-law for her brilliance. "Let's get this box taped up and mailed off."

A/N: The "Guide" Carly referred to in her letter and other information in these chapters is from the 2009 edition of the "455th Air Expeditionary Wing Deployment Guide Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan." You can find it using an Internet search website.


	3. Chapter 3 iGame

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first TDY to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little and Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living as a military wife. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package. (Freddie has been deployed about 2 weeks).

Chapter 3

iGame

Winter 2017

During deployments; the wives, mothers, and girlfriends become a close-knit family. Our civilian family and friends just don't understand how we feel and what we are going through. Angela, like most of the wives on base, has seen her husband deploy many times. For a few, like me, this is my first deployment. Angela has gone out of her way to make sure I feel welcome; including buying me lunch at the Base Exchange food court, where she roped me into helping her with this weekend's Deployed Family Dinner. We continue talking over coffee while sitting at a table and watching a group of kids, two of them hers, laughing and chasing each other around the play area. The sounds of them laughing and playing echo around the food court. I'm sure Mrs. Benson had something to do with setting up this meeting.

I smile politely at Angela; she is Freddie's Squadron Commander's wife. I'm not really sure how this spouse hierarchy works, and I am just starting to make friends on base. After sipping some more coffee, I ask "Does he ever tell you what he does over there?"

"No," while shaking her head. "With his last few assignments, parts of his job are top secret, and he is just trying to protect me from the less pleasant aspects of his job. Most importantly, I just don't want him to lie to me."

Trying to hide the shock on my face knowing Freddie would never lie to me, "Don't you wonder?"

"Sometimes, but he wouldn't be doing..." but is interrupted when the sounds from the play area turn from laughing to crying. "Benjamin! Stop pushing your sister!" The boys quiet down a little. "Just try not to think about it," raising her voice over young Carol's complaining about being pushed by her older brother. Benjamin continues chasing the other boys. Smiling, "you're still new to this game, aren't you?"

"The game?"

"Being a military wife, I mean. You belong to Lieutenant Benson?"

"No, I don't," think Air Force wife, not Freddie's Domme. Be the Air Force wife. I clear my throat, "I mean, I don't belong to him. I'm married to him."

Smiling again, "Sorry, bad choice of words. Do you know about your job as an officer's wife?"

"I'm starting to hate that title," I mutter.

"Thought so. New recruits are easy to spot."

"Oh really?" I ask with a little sarcasm. I can tell she notices.

Smiling and a little bit of sarcasm in her voice, "Yes, really! I take it you trying to re-start your career?"

I nod my head, "Freddie and I graduated last year," not quite understanding what this has to do with being easy to spot, "but it's hard to get back into the entertainment industry after four years of just doing college and local theatre," I glance at my purse with it's audition scripts, a commercial and a part in a TV series, "but for now, I'm working with one of my old college professors at the theatre. But it's not like I have a real full-time job."

"Well, it's not like we all have a real job to do, Carly. Even though I am a stay-at-home mom. With all of my … volunteer work, helping organize fund raisers, attending family support meetings, events like this weekends deployed family dinner, etc. I spend very little time there. But my friends on base include the psychiatrist who specializes in PTSD, several nurses, the club manager. You'll meet some of them this weekend."

"Guess who I met at last nights performance? Dorothy Evans. She said she is the Group Commander's wife?"

"What's Ms. Entertainment Weekly up to?"

"To watch our show, I guess. Ms. Entertainment Weekly? Is there a story behind that nickname?"

"The Colonel marrying a woman twenty years younger than him, and so soon after the death of his first wife. That generated a lot of talk. I met Mrs. Evans during our first spouse orientation flight, soon after her marriage to Colonel Evans. She arrived for the flight, said hello to everyone, and right after getting on the plane, she commandeered one of the seats in the crew rest area. She spent the rest of the flight flicking through an "Entertainment Weekly" magazine. I can't imagine her being interested in live theatre."

"She said she enjoyed the show."

She sips from her cup of coffee. "She was probably doing a reconnaissance mission on you, to see if you are a threat or not. I'm sure she has files on all of us. Let me tell you a story that happened at our last base. About five years ago, a Colonel was up for promotion to Brigadier General. He didn't get it, because the wife of another Colonel spread a rumor that they had a very unusual lifestyle. At least, that was the rumor we heard."

"Okay, even in a professional organization like the military, they're going to be good old backstabbing." I'd like to tell her that Freddie got outstanding reviews throughout his ROTC training and he will be a fantastic officer and no amount of badmouthing can keep him from getting the promotions he deserves. "So… you're telling me that I have to act like the perfect wife, if I want him to be all that he can be." What a way to talk to the wife of your husbands boss who is being the perfect wife and mother to two kids just so he could climb the ladder.

With some more laughter, "Basically, yes."

I had to look away from her toward the play area, thinking about the games Freddie and I like playing.

Giggling, "Carly, you should have gotten yourself pregnant right away. It will look good to the promotion boards when they are promoting a family man and nothing keeps those boys in-line when they are deployed like knowing their wife is barefoot and pregnant. You can imagine how they can get when they have been gone for a few months and the only pretty face they may see is the girl serving them scrambled eggs in the dinning hall, maybe some nurses walking around base, or whatever sexy young girl is on the stage during a USO concert." The laughing sounds from the play area turn into crying. "Benjamin! I told you to stop doing that!" She gets up and steps around the fixed riding toys to pick up her daughter. The crying quiets a bit. Angela returns with Carol to our table, and she starts eating her mom's French Fries with mayonnaise. "Then, when they get back and see their wife or girlfriend waiting, some of then can barely make it back to their cars."

I smile thinking about the times Freddie and I did things in the car, while I take a sip from my coffee cup. "I think we'll be okay. This may be our first deployment, but we are not a pair of immature eighteen-year-olds fresh out of high school," I say in the politest tone possible. I take a deep breath. "Angela, I'm sorry for being ungrateful."

"Its okay, Carly. You remind me of another friend. You'd like her. She had a little trouble adjusting to being a military wife at first, but she got use to the lifestyle."

Yeah, but I probably never will. "For this weekend's dinner, I know this chief that can make some fantastic sushi."

A/N: An old acronym to remember the hierarchical organization used in the USAF is "How Many New Airman Will Get Sore Feet." From highest to lowest are Headquarters, Major command, Numbered air force, Air division, Wing, Group, Squadron (Angela's husband is a Squadron Commander & Freddie's boss), and Flight (Freddie, being a new officer, may be in-charge of a small number of enlisted people who perform a specific function on base).


	4. Chapter 4 iTalk

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and Carly had lunch with Angela, where they talked about being a military wife. Freddie has been deployed about 3 weeks

Chapter 4: iTalk

Winter 2017

After completing this morning's run through the streets of Seattle, and up eight flights of stairs, I continue running around Apartment 8-C until I find Sam sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of my old bedroom surrounded by strips of colored paper. Breathing hard, I pull off my running gloves, toss my knit hat, and strip out of my running jacket, and collapse on my old bed from exhaustion. I look toward her, "Sam." I take in a deep breath to finish my thought, "am I a attention whore?"

Sam starts laughing hysterically, throws the strips of paper into the air, and falls backwards onto the floor, "you … just … figured … that … out," between her fits of laughter.

In one exhaled breath, "Whaaaat?"

Still laughing, Sam gets up and carefully drops down on the bed next to me, "What happened?"

I take a moment to get my breathing under control, "I ran pass some guy and he yelled out, NICE ASS! I know it's sexist, but I enjoyed hearing it."

"Well, those running tights do show off your ... assets. If you weren't wearing that jacket, and he could see that form fitting shirt, you would have also gotten a compliment of nice tits."

I tug down on the hem of my running shirt to emphasize my breast, "You think so?"

"Growing up, you were always getting praise from family and friends, who assured you that you were pretty and smart. Of course, I'll be skeptical of approval from them since they are supposed to tell you stuff like that. Then there are the compliments from the jerks we dated."

"Don't even get me started on what some of those guys said to me, just to be my first."

"On the other hand, a compliment from a stranger is proof that you are still hot. You're just feeling insecure about yourself without the constant attention that Freddie gives you."

"Wow Sam, that's ... deep."

"I'm your best friend. How was your dinner thingy last night?"

"It's called a Deployed Families Dinner," I reply as I look up at the gummy bear chandelier. "You would have enjoyed the free food…"

"FREE FOOD," Sam yells in excitement, "why didn't you take me?"

"Because you are not a military spouse or a dependent. These dinners give people like me an opportunity to meet other spouses, share experiences, talk to commanders, and support agency reps."

"And free food."

"All right Sam. The best thing was the free food. That was especially good for the families with children, so the spouse can relax for a while as volunteers keep an eye on their kids, and they don't have to cook for a night. All the cooking was done by volunteers."

"No work. Free food. Sweet deal."

"Actually, I helped take care of the kids. A few times I just held a baby while the mother walked through the serving line, and for a while I entertained the children with singing. There was also face painting, games, door prizes, and other activities for the kids."

"Sounds like you had fun. Your brother and I don't see you as much since you moved in with your mother-in-law a couple of weeks ago. So, how's life?"

"Well, this life" I emphasize the word life with finger quotes "isn't what I hoped to have when we were back in High School." I look at my left hand and the simple diamond wedding ring, "but when he asked me to walk with him away from the high school prom to the park where he got down on one knee, took my hands in his, and propose just as the full moon was rising. I was a little surprised, and I was happy with the way things were, but there was no doubt about what my answer would be."

"Yeah, Yeah. Freddie is your only true love, and even I can say that he better than all of your old boyfriends you loved. Seriously Carls, you did has a messed up view of love back then."

In my best shocked voice, while giggling at the same time, "If you weren't expecting," while poking her in the arm. "But yeah, I did fall in love with a lot of silly boys back in high school. Freddie waited years for me to figure out what true love is. Then when you hogtied him, he just looked so hot. There is something about a man being tied-up."

"Glad I was finally able to get you to see him as more than your best guy friend. If that didn't work, I was going to date him just to get you jealous."

"Thank God you didn't have to go that far. Then on the 13th of August 2012, at the courthouse with you, family, and friends, I became Mrs. Carly Benson. I couldn't have asked for more. I have my perfect husband who would do anything for me, whatever I wanted or needed, and all I have to do is ask. Of course, secretly I would do anything for him. That was the perfect day that became the start of an incredible honeymoon."

"You were on that cross-country road-trip for about a month. Melanie called and told us about that weekend the two of you spend with her and her boyfriend. Boy, did she model her lifestyle on yours after your first Goddess party."

My giggles turn into full-blown laughter. "That was a fantastic weekend! Having two wonderful sexy guys taking care of all our needs. Mel's boyfriend was a little shy at first, being naked in front of Freddie and I, but she trained him well. The guys are still good friends, both being tech guys and all. Then, when we got back, we find out that you went from practically living here to actually living here, and sleeping in my brothers bed."

"Well ..., with you and Freddie gone, we got bored. It looks like we all did okay in finding love. I have Spencer," as she rubs her belly, "you have Freddie, and Melanie, Shelby, and Tasha are all married."

"How about Wendy and what's-his-name?"

"She dumped that loser weeks ago."

"He`s a nice guy and a TV reporter."

"Sure he was. Let me count his loser ways. Spencer, Wendy, and I are waiting at the bar." She begins to count them off with her fingers. "He's late. Ignored her half the night while playing darts with some other friends. Only paid for her first drink. Wouldn't dance with her. When his friends left he looked at his phone more times than he looked at her. If that's not a loser boyfriend, I don't know what is. Reporter pursuing a big story. Yeah right. More likely pursuing the teenage daughter of our Congressman. It was just too much for her."

"Oh.., he did seem to be a nice guy. I'll ask Freddie in my next e-mail about that guy he is rooming with. Freddie said he is single and doesn't have a family. Maybe Wendy can be a pen pal for him. Okay Sam, when is my brother going to make an honest woman out of you?"

"Carly," with a sly grin, "when have I ever been an honest woman. Besides, why would we mess up a great relationship by getting married. If people knew we were together, I wouldn't be able to work the crowds at those art shows to help him sale his artworks."

"Spencer becoming a dad and a famous artists," laughing. "At least he is living his dream. There have been times when I had my doubts about Freddie and mine life together. I mean, with his college and tech experience, he could have joined Pear, Microsoft, or any of the other computer companies. Maybe, even gone into producing movies and television. But, when we made the decision that the Air Force would be a good career, I stood right beside him as the good wife. I encouraged him throughout the ROTC training program while we were in college. When he received his commission and his first assignment was here at McChord, I was ecstatic that we would be starting our new life together with family and friends nearby. I thought no one could break us apart. Unfortunately, I forget about the power of the Air Force and within a few months, we were preparing for his first deployment."

"Carly, it's only been about a month since he left."

"Sam! Easy for you to say. Even when pregnant, you can … have some fun with Spencer. It's been about a month since we held each other at the PAX Terminal, where he reminded me that I am and will always be his life. I tried staying strong, but I just started crying in his arm. He tried to reassure me that everything will be okay. So I watched him get on that C-17 with a smile on my lips but tears in my eyes."

"Well, call up one of your old boyfriends, I'm sure one..."

"SAM!" as I lightly punch her in the arm. "My nights may be lonely, but I will be faithful! I'm not in love with anyone else and I can't pretend that I am. We know he will stay faithful to me, and when this deployment is over, he will be coming home to me, but for now, those e-mails and phone calls are all he can give me. Freddie is my true love. He is the perfect husband. He is gentle, sensual, and he knows me so well."

"Yes, the sex being the most important. Spencer is a totally different kind of lover. Sex with him is almost like … consensual rape. I will jump on him, then he'll throw me on the bed, and then it's..."

"Please don't," as I cover my eyes with my hands, "that's not an image I want to have of my brother. But with my eyes closed, I can see my man wearing nothing but the leather collar and dog-tags." I bring my hands together over my heart.

"He's a nudist. He use to do that all the time before you two went to college."

"It's not like we had sex in front you."

"Sometimes, you two would get carried away and completely forget we are in the room."

"And you would throw something at us. One of the best things about having our own apartment near the college was the spontaneous sex, but what I really miss is when we would just cuddle in bed. So for now, I stay busy with auditions, the theatre, and volunteer work to get me through the days. Mrs. Benson's idea about writing letters to him and making care packages helps get me through the nights. His little e-mails tell me that he is okay. But the phone calls are few, far between, and nowhere near long enough. So in every e-mail and phone call, I tell him how much I love him and how proud I am of him. But I don't talk about the sacrifices we are making. One of those sacrifices is our time together. I now live for those phone calls."

"During that first week after Freddie left, when you were going through denial, Mrs. Benson asked Spencer and me to help keep your mind off what's going on over there."

"Thank you Sam. I expected she asked for your help. But whenever I hear that an American has been killed over there, my first thought is was it my Freddie. My world stops and I jump whenever there is a knock at the door. My worst fear is that I will open that door and see two Air Force officers in their dress blues to inform me that Freddie has been killed. Freddie told me about his 10th birthday, when he opened his front door to those two men."

"That's why he doesn't like to celebrate his birthday. His birthday is the same day his dad was killed. Man, that would suck."

"Yeah," with a nod of my head, and I wipe a tear from my face.

"Is that why you and Freddie want to be alone that weekend."

I just nod my head and look at one of the gummy bears on the wall. Sam starts poking me in the arm.

"Carls, I will keep poking you until you tell me."

"Okay. Okay. Your nails are sharp," as I rub the spot she was poking me. "You know the rules that Freddie and I live by and what the leather collar symbolizes to us."

"Sure. It represents his dedication, love, and enslavement to you."

"He's not a slave! He submissive. He loves and trusts me completely, and he just wants me to be happy. The rules are just for the games we play. He was a nudist before he met me, and he does have a great body, so rule one is for him to be naked all the time, unless it's illegal. But he does look sexy in his dress blue uniform, and I enjoy watching him take them off. But on the weekend after his birthday, I wear the collar and follow all the rules that go with it."

With a gross look on her face, "You become … submissive to him? That's one game Spencer and me won't be playing."

I grin and shake my head, "On his birthday after we made our commitment to each other, I had the idea that I would give him me as a birthday present, and I would take care of him that weekend. So while he was sleeping, I took the collar off him and placed it around my neck. The feeling is so incredible. All my worries disappeared. All I have to do is take care of the man I love. I gave him breakfast in bed, shower, massage, and all the other ways he takes care of me, I did for him on that weekend. That Saturday afternoon, he took me to the Operation Enduring Freedom display at the on-base museum, where he told me how his father was killed during a combat search and rescue operation in Afghanistan. Visiting his grave in Arlington Cemetery is one of the things we did during our honeymoon road trip. Me being submissive to him on that weekend has become an annual tradition for us."

"Are you naked all weekend?"

"Yes Sam. On that weekend, the rules that normally apply to him apply to me. I am comfortable being naked with him, but not with other people like he is. Since he would never cause me to be embarrassed, he won't invite anyone over. If he wants to go out, he will choose my cloths for me."

"Why did you let Freddie join the Air Force, knowing how his dad was killed?"

"Freddie and I, together, came to the conclusion that the Air Force is a good career move. Freddie's father was a helicopter pilot. Freddie is in a non-combat career field. He is more likely to get hit by a truck than enemy action."

"Carly, have you told him I'm pregnant?"

"In an e-mail."

"You and him don't mind Spencer and me turning your old bedroom into a nursery?"

"Dad gave you and Spencer the Master bedroom down the hall, and I haven't slept in this bed since a week after Freddie left. Your baby will be here before Freddie finishes this deployment. If we have to, we'll sleep in his bedroom while we are house hunting when he's back."

Sam and I hear Spencer yelling "MAIL...CALL..." from downstairs.

"Mail-call?" My eyes widen with excitement, "he mailed something back," as I jump out of my old bed and run downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, my brother is holding a white envelope. "It's from Freddie."

I take it from him, and sit on the couch. I carefully tear open the envelope and remove the letter.

A LITTLE RANT: I have been reading fanfiction since the end of 2009 when I started watching the TV series and I started writing my own story. I have read several stories where Mrs. (whichever girl was married to Freddie) Benson was notified by telephone that something happen to Freddie. It was a story in which his mother got a phone call about his firefighter father's death that started me planning a chapter to describe this event. It only took me about 20 minutes of searching the internet to find the recommended procedures for notifying the next of kin, and that includes the "We regret to inform you of your husband's death..." speech. Two uniformed people, with several others nearby, will go to the home of the family of the fallen fire/military/police member to notify them of his death. Any decent organization will have similar policies. Over the phone is the last way the family will be contacted. PLEASE DO YOUR RESEARCH.


	5. Chapter 5 iMail

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam had a long talk, then a letter from Freddie arrived.

* * *

><p>AN: With Freddie's time in the ROTC and almost a year in the Air Force, Carly will be familiar with military abbreviations. Freddie's uses these abbreviations in this chapter.

DSN = Defense Switching Network is the military version of the Plain Old Telephone System.

FR = Airman & Family Readiness has overall responsibility for providing personnel & their families with family briefings & assisting families with problems that occur during deployments.

Space-A = Space-Available = Military members are permitted to use military resources when excess capability allows. In this case, using a DSN phone in Afghanistan to call a DSN phone in the USA to connect his call to the local phone company.

USO = United Service Organizations is a private, nonprofit organization that provides morale and recreational services to members of the U.S. military. There is a USO center at Bagram, and they are on Facebook.

This chapter picks up right at the end of Chapter 4.

Chapter 5

iMail

Sam and I hear Spencer yelling "MAIL...CALL..." from downstairs.

"Mail-call?" My eyes widen with excitement, "he mailed something back," as I jump out of my old bed and run downstairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, my brother is holding a white envelope. "It's from Freddie."

I take it from him, and sit on the couch. I carefully tear open the envelope and remove the letter.

* * *

><p><em>My dear sexy Miss Carly,<em>

_Thank you for the care package and the letter. I'm also not use to handwriting letters, so here it goes._

_This care package is seriously the best surprise I've got since I arrived in the "sandbox." My roommates, Anderson (Intel), Clark (Transportation), and Davis (Security) got hyper as children on Christmas morning when I got the package. We looked at the USB drives (I got a Pear Tablet real cheap from a guy who was rotating home) and the photo album you sent brought back some great memories. The guys never laughed so much in their lives when I was telling them the stories behind some of the pictures. It definitely brightened up our day. You and the girls/guys have captured a lot of good memories._

_Thank you for the stuff in the care package. Galini's or your cupcakes would have been great. The dinning facility (Dfac) does serve some petty good meals. Everyone here is on the Air Force diet, so those candies and sweets are a nice treat. I burned the first serving of SOS on the grill in the picnic area, but the second was okay. Many of the older veterans remember SOS. The other stuff from the care package will make life around here a little more pleasant. I promise to use the sunscreen._

_I will try to e-mail as often as I can, but Morale Calls through the DSN is on a Space-A basis and limited to 15 minutes. There is also the 12 and a half hour time difference, so I will try and plan the calls accordingly. I will use the international phone cards as a last resort. Due to limited network bandwidth and with the number of people trying to use it, the Internet tends to be as slow as molasses, so a private webcam is not a real option. We may be able to schedule a webcam through FR or the USO. I will try writing more, but don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while._

_One advantage of writing is that I can think of things to write about that I forgot about while we where talking on the phone or I forgot to put in a quickly typed e-mail, but most importantly, a letter is private. E-mails are scanned by the military network (so be careful about what you e-mail to me) and military phones are "subject to monitoring." Privacy and personal space is extremely limited here._

_Let me tell you some more about this place while I am thinking about it. Bagram is a small dusty military city with aircraft hangars, barracks, concrete barriers (with command approval Airmen can display their artistic skills on these walls to add some color to this bland landscape) and HESCO barriers, fuel farms, fortified entry points, numerous infrastructure improvement projects, even a new water treatment plant (but our long showers together is not an opinion here), people in strange uniforms from other nations, and civilian contractors with ID tags hanging from their necks. The shopping area on base includes the BX, a beauty salon, the usual military fast food restaurants, and a market where Afghan merchants sell there jewelry, perfumes, rugs, etc._

_Soon after I arrived, I was assigned my bed and I met my roommates. For the first three days, I and the other new personnel sat through briefings. Talk about "death-by-powerpoint." Family discord, mental health, and suicide awareness are the ones that I remember and are collectively call "don't-beat-your-wife classes." The training I got before coming here really doesn't prepare you for this place. The next day, I started my 12-hour work shift. _

_You know the old saying, "The military never sleeps," Everything here runs 24/7. I have stopped wearing a watch because time doesn't mean much as each day has the same schedule. Rise early, arduous work shift, and late to bed. With 12 hour work shifts, breakfast, dinner, PT, we really don't have much spare time for other activities. Aircraft taking off and landing (you though the C-17s where loud, the F-15s and F-16s sound like thunder), helicopters flying everywhere, gyms (but you have to compete with the Army and Marines for the workout equipment), a few other recreation centers, and everything else a small city needs. This place is nonstop. It's exhausting, and there is no such thing as quiet over here, but that's what earplugs are for._

_Ever though I want to be there with my arms around you, I still believe that being here is where I am supposed to be. This isn't a college project just to get a passing grade. This is real and important. It may suck a little bit, mostly because of the schedule and over-crowding, but I like the fact that anything can happen and you never know what or when. It's very important work I do, and I love doing my part. Helping to keep America safe, keeping you safe._

_Since yesterday's quick e-mail (of course, by the time you read this letter, that e-mail would have happened a week or two ago), I volunteered for one of the humanitarian missions, Operation "Woobie," "Woobie' is an old military term for blankets. It's an effort to improve community relations. Outgoing service members donate their unused blankets, pillows, or any other items of comfort so they can be used by Afghan families impacted by the war. Conditions outside our military bases are very bleak and cold, and there is quite a bit of suffering. By American standards, conditions are miserable. Many villages lack basic human necessities. The local hospitals need the items as well. I coordinate the collecting and documenting of this stuff on this base. Clark gets it shipped as opportunity cargo. Anderson works with the local sheiks, so that they could hand out these items themselves. This allowed them to provide for their villages and maintain their status and pride. Davis and his Security Force team oversee the transportation of the shipments to the local villages. I feel I'm doing more good helping to bring peace and a better life to the people of Afghanistan, but I am sorry that you have to suffer for it now. _

_That's about all that I can think of for now. Tell everyone I love them and miss them. I wish I could be there, but everything here is under control. The current plan for my mid-tour leave is to take those weeks this summer. We still have months to work out the details._

_Love; from your slightly burnt but otherwise health husband; Freddie Benson_

_P.S. Sent my other pair of PT shoes. The pair I brought with me are wearing out, and I don't want to use our money to buy another pair unless I have to._

* * *

><p>I neatly refold the letter and carefully place it back in its envelope.<p>

I start crying, as two pairs of arms wrap around me.

A/N: Freddie description of Bargam Air Base is based on the research I have done over the last few months and should be an accurate description of that base as it is today. President Obama's current plan is to start withdrawing combat troops this year (2012) and stop all ground combat operations in 2014. Realistically, there will be U.S. military personnel in Afghanistan for years after that, just not many ground combat troops, and this base will probability be used by American and other military forces in 2017.

Hi Boris Yeltsin. My plan of "Putting out a chapter about military families makes sence with the Iraw "war" being over yesterday" was pure coincidence. Chapter 1 was posted the Friday after the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 and the start of the Afghanistan war. Those anniversaries and news reports about the First Lady appearing on iCarly (I even sent an e-mail to the White House about that) is what restarted this series with it's military theme. I saw that Veterans Day was on the middle Friday of November and that's when I planned on posting chapter 3. So the plan is to post a chapter on the middle Friday of each month, but do to a change in my work schedule, chapters will now be posted Friday evening after work.


	6. Chapter 6 iVolunteer

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's letter.

Freddie has been deployed for about two months.

The volunteer work that Mrs. Benson has got me involved in was originally to get me out of the apartment, to meet new people, and to support our troops. I feel I have a connection with our servicemen, servicewomen, and their families, because I know from personal experience that each person I try to help is a person who is making a sacrifice for our country. At times, this can be a very emotional place for me, but I am finding that I get some fulfillment in my life when I try to make a difference in someone else's life. This month, I have been giving my spare time to work the volunteer desk at the passenger terminal where I said goodbye to my Freddie.

This morning, I walk into the PAX Terminal and head toward the volunteer desk to sign in. As I put on my volunteer hat, I exchange pleasantries with last nights volunteer, and pick up an assortment of pamphlets to replace the ones the visitors and tourist usually take.

As I walk around the waiting area, I see a few other people walking around but more are seated, either reading, listening, or watching their portable entertainment device, or trying to sleep. Some laughter echoes from the children's play area. I stop in front of the big screen monitors to look at today's flying schedule. A young woman standing there tells me she is meeting her boyfriend who is flying in from Scott AFB. I explain how to read the flight schedule information on the monitors. The inbound screen shows the schedule ARRIVAL time, it's CALL SIGN, it's DEPARTURE base, and the type of AIRCRAFT. I also tell her how long it normally takes for the bus to drop-off the passengers at the flightline gate. On the outbound screen is the passenger's SHOW TIME, then the flight's CALL SIGN, it's DESTINATION and any in-route stops, the type of AIRCRAFT, and how many SEATS are available.

This morning, the inbound screen shows C-17s from Scott, Elmendorf, Charleston, Mildenhall, Dover, and Christchurch. Planes will be dropping out of the sky today, but these are all routine missions. The outbound screen is showing a C-5 going to Hickam. Show time was over two hours ago. Those passengers, mostly tourist, are already on the plane. I can hear the high-pitch whine from its engines. As long as it doesn't break, I won't have to worry about them. A KC-10 going to McGuire, then a C-17 going to Andrews followed by one going to Travis, and finally another one to Hill.

Only four aircraft leaving during my shift. There shouldn't be any large heart-wrenching goodbyes or happy homecomings. It should be a quite day.

As I continue my walk around the waiting area, I pickup the left behind magazines and newspapers. The most interesting is the European edition of the "Stars and Stripes" from last week. I place them next to the coffee machines for others to read, and to keep the janitor from throwing them away. If the "Stars and Stripes" is still here at the end of my shift, I'll take it home for Mrs. Benson to read. She still has some from when they were stationed at RAF Lakenheath in England.

From my seat behind the volunteer desk, I have a good view of the main entrance and the waiting room. While eating my Burger King Breakfast Value Meal I picked up before my shift started, I watch three men wearing olive green flight suits get off the blue Air Force passenger bus and enter the waiting area through the flightline gate. They are probably a flight crew that was deadheading on this morning first inbound flight. I can see that the first man rushing through the door is a Lieutenant Colonel, with his heavy flight bag and computer briefcase bumping against his legs, and I hear him complaining that he has to meet his wife. He is wearing a leather-flying jacket so he is probably a pilot. Next is a First Lieutenant pulling more luggage, maybe he's the co-pilot, trying to reassure him that she will not leave without him. He loudly replies, your single and you won't be riding with her in morning rush hour traffic. The last man, no officer rank on his shoulders so he could be a loadmaster, smiles as he strolls through the door and into the waiting arms of the young woman I talked to earlier this morning. They did not hurry to catch up with the other two men.

I watch as a family come through the main doors. A Marine holding a baby wrapped in pink, and his wife pulling a wheeled bag. The wife is also holding the hand of a little boy who is all excited, who then breaks free and runs to the windows facing the flightline. The woman takes the baby from the Marine, and he takes the bag to check in at the departure desk. She walks over to the windows and stoops down to talk to the little boy. The Marine rejoins them, and they have a seat near the window.

I see a young U.S. Army soldier enter through the main doors with a duffel bag on his back. He scans the area, looks at the flying schedule, checks in his duffel bag at the departure desk, and then walks around, occasionally stopping to look at the welcome home banners on the walls. He ends up standing at the same window I was standing at two months ago.

I take some more pamphlets to the display stand and I place them in there respective boxes.

I walk over to him and quietly ask him how he is doing?

He says okay and turns back to the window.

I ask why he is along and not with a contingent of solders, just to start a conversation. He tells me how he came home on emergency leave for his mother's funeral. I ask how he's doing and he says pretty well, but I know he is hurting. I encourage him to talk by telling him about my mother's death. It bothers me that I can't do more for him but I can talk with him to help him ease his pain. We also talk about what's going on over there and the people we know who are over there. The ones who made it back, and the ones who didn't. After talking for a half an hour or so, his flight is called, and he stands to leave, but before he goes he thanks me for talking with him. I give him a hug before he heads into the secure departure area.

I also see the Marine stand up, kiss his wife and baby, hug his son, and he also heads toward the secure departure area.

As the wife and kids leave the waiting area, a jogger enters. He's breathing hard. His face glistening with sweat. He walks toward me, and greets me with a smile as he walks pass me. For a moment, he looks like my Freddie. He refills his water bottle at the water fountain and goes back out to continue his jogging.

After eating my homemade lunch, I find myself looking at some of the welcome home banners that are tacked to some of the walls around the waiting area.

"Welcome Home Edward. Husband, Father, and Hero."

I'm happy that these people got their love ones back, but it hurts when I know my husband, my hero, is still over there and won't be coming home for months. Just because combat operations in Afghanistan has ended, doesn't mean that everyone is home now

"I Got the Best Christmas Present Ever."

It's still here, even after two months. It's a colorfully poster that looks like a child may have made it. I am happy for them, but it makes me think about the fact that my Freddie left right after last Christmas and won't be home in time for the next one. We will probability have our Christmas in January.

"Welcome Home George. We are so proud of you."

Every American should be proud of the hard work our men and women in the service are doing. Far from home. Separated from their families for months at a time.

Most of the American public will never see the joy and happiness as families are reunited, other than a few seconds shown in a TV News report. But all this feels meaningless without Freddie. Moments like this are when I have to fight to keep it together.

Later in the day, I overhear a group of three older men talking excitedly over coffee, exchanging stories, just happy to be together again. I go over to offer to refill their coffee cups. Curious about who they are, I ask what brings them here. I learn they are counselors that graduated together, and haven't see each other in years. One is going to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center near Washington D.C., one to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, and one to Kandahar International Airport in Afghanistan. As we continue talking, one of the men asks about why I am a volunteer here. I tell them about my Freddie being deployed to Bagram Air Field in Afghanistan, and tears start flowing down my face. One rubs my back as I dry my tears and regain control of my emotions. A short while later, their flight is called, and I give each a hug as they leave.

It's getting dark now, my shift is over, and my feet are aching. I clean up the volunteer station, start another pot of coffee, and put that week old "Star and Stripes" in my purse. I exchange pleasantries with tonight's volunteer as we see a older man walking alone who looks like he is a little lost, then we see a younger man catch up with him. I sign out, take off my hat, and walk toward the doors. I take one last look at the waiting area. There are only a few people walking around now, more are seated, either reading, listening, or watching their portable entertainment device, or trying to sleep. More will come later tonight, and another volunteer will try to help them.


	7. Chapter 7 iPhone

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's letter. Carly's day as a volunteer.

A/N: I introduced "Angela" in chapter 3. She is Freddie's Squadron Commander's wife and could be Carly's Key Spouse. A Key Spouse is a volunteer, usually the spouse of another military member, who represents the unit and is a conduit of information between commanders and the civilian family. They help Airman spouses navigate the sometimes-confusing military life.

Freddie has been deployed 3 months.

As I spend this evening working on a script while lying in his bed, my pearphone rings, and I quickly reach over to the bedside table to pick it up. It has been almost two days since I got e-mail and a week since I received a phone call from Freddie. The phone displays 8:46 and SQN ORDERLY RM. I tap the ANSWER key, "Hello."

"Miss Carly!"

"OHMYGOD Freddie, I have been worried sick about you! I read a tweet that linked to a news report that an American has been killed over their, but his identity was withheld pending notification of next of kin. I called Angela, but she hadn't been briefed. When I started searching for more information, I come up with nothing from the big TV News sites. Their top story is about Lindsay Lohan in court. AGAIN! Didn't that dam woman learn her lesson years ago? You would think an important story from over there would be a top story. Hard-hitting journalism my ass. The American public knows more about Lohan's than about the men and women who are making the ultimate sacrifice for our country."

"Carly, please. I am okay, but it was my roommate Davis who was killed and Anderson injured by an IED yesterday."

"Oh God, I'm so, so sorry. What happened?"

"Anderson stepped on a IED that was daisy chained to others that killed Davis, losing parts of his lower body in the process. He's going to have a difficult time of it, I mean, survivor's guilt and his devastating injuries. The news hit everyone here pretty hard."

"A few hours after I talked to Angela, she sent out a text message telling us that the Airman wasn't based here, but is there anything I can do?"

"Not really, both guys are from the east coast. Anderson was stabilization and was MedEvac to Germany for more surgery. Davis is in-route to Dover. Clark and I packed up their stuff and had a Ramp Ceremony when we put Davis on one of ours C-17s. I described the events in a letter I wrote that evening. I'm sorry I haven't been able to call since last week. I miss you and it's good to hear your voice. How are Sam and Spencer? Still can't believe she is going to be a mom."

"Spencer says she sometimes has hellacious mood swings. Another reason I don't mind living with your mother." I hear Freddie start laughing over the phone.

"Am glad you and my mom are getting along. I never though of Sam as the mom type, but I'm sure she will be a great at it."

"Talking about them making art together. Spencer is ecstatic with the idea of being a father. Even dad is okay with the idea of being a granddad. Granddaddy is complaining about them not being married. That's the biggest drama we have going on over here. Are you and Clark all-right?"

"We'll good. Clark got Wendy's letter. That cheered him up a lot, but with recent events, he's not in the mood to call her. We already have new roommates. A guy named Hall, Lieutenant Potty Mouth who sure does not want to be here, and the other guy is Ingram, that man is huge but quiet. I don't know much else about them. So, what else is happening there?"

"The voiceover work for that animation movie is going good, but that cell phone commercial was cancelled. That pilot for that Science Fiction series that was filmed in Canada where I play the young version of the shows lead actress got picked up, so I could be called back to do flashback scenes. The professor and I are planning our next theatrical show. I'm using my spare time this month doing volunteer work at the base museum. It's quite there, so I can work on the script. What else ... Last Friday night we had a Girls' Night Out. Thankfully, I didn't have anything important to do that weekend."

"Miss Carly, what kind of trouble did you girls get into?"

"Me ... in trouble. I'm shocked you would think that. You know I'm a good girl, but we did have a good time. Okay, it was Friday night and we girls wanted to go out and have some fun. It's a what are we going to do, where are we going, and what do we wear kind of night. So Sam and I are video chatting with Wendy and Tasha about where to go and what to wear. Maybe we'll start with sushi and sake at that fancy new restaurant, or steak and beer at the steakhouse, or sangria and tapas at that upscale Spanish place, followed by some barhopping. I called the sushi place and found out they are having an invitation only party before the actual grand opening. So I change into some skinny jeans, boots, and my tastefully oversized green PROUD AIR FORCE WIFE penny-tee. We grabbed our winter coats and headed out to meet the girls at the steakhouse. The steaks and beer were almost as good as the ones we had at that steakhouse in Texas. The steakhouse was Sam's idea, but being pregnant, she drank root beer instead of real beer."

"I'm sure her root beer was better than our near-beer," laughing, "Please continue, this is the best war story I have heard all week."

"Since it was St Patrick's Day, we decided to start bar-hopping at the Irish Pub where they serve free appetizers and half price drinks to the ladies. The taxi ride was filled with giggles with stories about what we have been up to since our last GNO and we soon find ourselves standing at the bar, drinks in hand, feet tapping to the music. That pub is Irish in name only, but they were serving green beer. That beer tasted as bad as it looked. Tasha then ordered Vodka martini straight up with a lemon twist and an olive for each of us. Sam had rum and coke, minus the rum. After that and a few other sophisticated drinks, we were rolling. You will ever have a dull evening when tequila shots are involved. Sam also had some screwdrivers, minus the vodka. She found another designated driver to talk to. Tasha and I were BSing with the bartender, but Wendy was in heat. You need to get Clark to call her, because she found a Mr. tall dark and handsome and wanted to leave with the guy. Sam steps in and said," I chance my voice to imitate Sam's demanding voice. "NO WENDY. You know our rule, we never go home with a strange guy!" I change to Wendy's begging voice, "please, just this once!" Imitating Sam's voice again, "NO!" I start laughing, "Then Sam ordered that guy to give her his number. I later found that phone number so she won't be calling him, but you need to get Clark moving in the right direction and I will work on Wendy. I think her dating an officer would be a good for her."

"I will talk to Clark and I'll be sure to mail something nice for Sam."

"Well, the night continued innocently enough at the sports bar where Tasha's cousin is a bartender. There we finished watching the March Madness basketball game between the Huskies and North Carolina."

"We saw it on America Forces Network. They got their ass whipped."

"Yeah. While there, Tasha's cousin was gracious enough to supply us with free drinks and gossip about the other bar patrons, and you won't believe who we ran into, Shane and some of his guys. He's now a lighting designer and he designed the lighting systems for that sushi restaurant. He made a phone call, and we are on our way, but first we needed to change, so it's back to the apartment. Most of my nicer cloths are still in my old closet. Well, we were in a hurry to get to that restaurant, and my judgment was definitely impaired by alcohol. So ... much to the delight of Shane and his friends, I started tossing off my clothes as soon as I got in the front door and by the time I'm half way up the stairs, I was down to my thong underwear. I always suspected you were trying to turn me into an exhibitionist. I'm going to punish you when you get back."

"Is that a promise, Miss Carly?" he asks.

"That's a promise," I whisper with a sexy tone.

Freddie moans, "Thank you Goddess," then clears his throat. "As I always tell you, you have a natural beauty that shouldn't be covered up. What was Sam doing during all this and how late was it" with a little worry in his voice?

"Sam was the only one of us who was completely sober, and I think she threaten the guys while we were upstairs. It was getting late, but I don't think we had hit midnight yet. Well, we girls came down those stairs like fashion models strutting down the runway. I'm in my black strapless mini-dress, topped with a leather bolero jacket, and six-inch platform boots. Wendy and Tasha chose equally sexy cloths from my closet. The guys enjoyed the show."

"Well, Shane and his boys had better have treated you and the ladies right, or I'll ask Brigadier General Morgan and his men to drop by and give them a talk."

"They were not disrespectful in any way, so you have nothing to worry about. You remember Chief Sonya's style of cooking."

"Her fantastic sushi, with me as the centerpiece."

"That sushi restaurant took that idea to the next level. We started with a little champagne reception. That place has big screen monitors hanging from the walls displaying animated artworks. Bottles of high-end wines were also prominently displayed. Candles flickering everywhere. It all added to the restaurant's sensual vibe. We were then escorted by an Asian looking woman wearing a Kimono to a private dining room with floor style tables. Lying across the top of each table was a sushi covered body. The guys went to the table with the girl, and we got the guy. The interesting parts were covered with banana leaves or flower petals, and the girl's hair was spread out around her head and also decorated with rose petals. Sam, being pregnant, was advised not to eat sushi, but had food like fried shrimp dumplings, and sweet-and-sour chicken. She said everything on the cooked menu was delicious. Everyone else had the sushi off the models. You know, the ability to talk about anything in a private room was quite liberating, especially since we were in a semi-inebriated state. We didn't care that our naked food plates or our naked waiter could hear our blunt and often bawdy exchanges. We were laughing about bad dates. Gossiping about former high school and college friends. Sexual techniques, human and battery-operated. Abstinence and who has the record for it. I won with our months apart. Brazilians, not the people, and I voted for the Full Brazilian. Sam got into a debate with one of Shane's guys over who would win a fight between a drunk and a stoner. The last thing I remember was toasting the winner with a shot of sake. The next day around lunchtime, I wake up with the worst hangover ever. I have no idea how I ended up in my old bed with Wendy and Tasha, and ... we'll all naked. When I asked Sam what happened that night, she just grinned like a Cheshire cat and said nothing interesting."

More laughing, "An epic drinking tale with a delicious dining experience and a dose of sexual fetishism."

"Okay funny boy, so how's work?"

"Oh you know, same-old, same-old. We are suppose to work 12 hours then eat, sleep, workout, and maybe have a little fun during the next 12 hours, but shifts usually run long and rarely a night would go by without something waking us up. Like this morning, at oh four hundred, it sounded like the local chapter of the Taliban exploded a bomb. We later learned it was at the civilian police station. So I crawled out of bed, and started my day. Which gave me some extra time to call. Believe me Miss Carly, I wish I could be there with you."

"Me too, honey, me too. I wish you were in this bed with me so we can cuddle, talk, laugh, kiss, and stuff, and maybe even sleep," as I wipe away the tears that are starting to fall from my eyes.

"Oh, don't cry Miss Carly, please don't cry. I promise, I'll be home soon. My mid-tour leave is in a few months. I'm sorry Carly, but there are other guys who need to call their families. I love you, Carly. I will see you soon, Okay."

"Okay, I love you too Freddie."

"Just remember, Miss Carly, my love for you is what brings me comfort. Bye."

"Freddie, I'll keep you safe in my heart." I whisper, "Bye." I press END, and set my phone back on its charging dock.

I just break down and wipe more tears from my eyes. Some tears are because I miss Freddie. Some just because I heard his voice. Some because I know he's in a dangerous part of the world.

He tells me everything is okay, but I know he is in danger.


	8. Chapter 8 iHonor

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Additional Warning: Most of this chapter is the letter about what happened to Lieutenant Anderson and Lieutenant Davis that Freddie mentioned during the phone call in last month's chapter. Carly would have received that letter by mail one to two weeks after that phone call. This letter may be cruel and may upset you as you read it. It is not meant to be that way, but it is exactly what our military service men and women are experiencing in Afghanistan.

Previously – Lieutenant Benson left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living as a military wife. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's first letter from Afghanistan. Carly's day as a volunteer. Freddie called home.

Freddie has been deployed almost 4 months

After a long day on base, I enter my old apartment and find my big brother sitting on the couch studying a small square box. I also notice the large open Post Office mailing box, a small blanket, and bubble wrap laying on the coffee table. "Hey," as I drop down next to him. "What's all this stuff?"

"Oh, hey Carly. Freddie send us some gifts from Afghanistan. How was that spouse get-together thingy?"

"It was good spouse orientation meeting. I and some other volunteers helped Angela set up in one of the aircraft hangers. It was just a little dinner and Information Fair for the new wives on base," as I reach over to pull the box closer to me, and realize there's more stuff in it.

"Look at the workmanship that went into this jewelry box" as he sticks it in front of my face.

The box is about 6 inches on each side and about 4 inches in height and appears to be made from a bluish stone.

"That is his gift to Sam. He wrote in his letter to me that it is made out of Lapis Lazuli stone, which is mined in the Badakhshan province of Afghanistan. Those are the same mines that supplied the lapis for most of the ancient world. The stuff is a semi-precious gemstone that is distinguished by its intense shades of blue, and each jewelry box is sculpted by hand. Can you imagine the hours of work it must have taken to cut and shape the stone, then rub and polish it to bring out that shine and smoothness."

"That is an impressive, and unique, present," as I take it from him and open the lib. I see that the interior is divided into smaller compartments and it's all covered with a soft felt like material. In the center is one piece of jewelry "Is that Mom's ring?"

"Yeah. I'm going to ask her … again."

"Someday she will say yes. What else is in the mail box?"

"Freddie gave me this metal gift box. He said the locals recycle metal from expended munitions. I'm still trying to figure our how they mounted the gemstones on top. He got his mom that Afghan wrap," as he points toward the small blanket on the coffee table, "and you get this Afghan blanket," as he pulls it out of the box. "He writes that it is big enough to cover a queen size bed or you can use it as a mural on a wall," as he drops it into my lap.

The blanket is knitted with vividly colored yarns, and feels like it's strong enough to last generations. After spreading it out a little bit on my lap, I see it is made up of geometrical patterns with an intricate design of vines, flowers, and roses between the shapes. "I can see Freddie liked it."

"Carly, he also wrote letters to each of us. He put a little warning in mine that your letter might be emotionally upsetting. You want me to stay or leave you alone?"

I just stare at the white envelope with my name written on it. What could Freddie put into this letter that he had to warn my brother about it?

"Right, I'll be back," he said with a worried grin.

"Stay," I tell him as I wrap my fingers around his wrist before he can walk away, "sit back down."

"Okay," and settles back onto the couch beside me. 

* * *

><p><em>Dear Carly,<em>

_There are moments in life I will never forget. For me, the best moments are when I first meet you, our commitment ceremony, our marriage. But yesterday goes on my short list of bad moments, that Sam didn't cause. It was one of those unforgettable days that I just had to put down in writing._

_I know we have discussed in detail why I'm doing this job, and if we are willing to continue to do this after my initial obligation to the Air Force, and just deal with the day-to-day problems of being deployed. The time apart, the missed birthdays, the missed family events, the missed holidays, just for a paycheck, benefits, and some future job opportunities. Yesterday's events remind me of another reason I volunteered to serve. I serve to make a difference, not just for the people of the United States, but over here to make a difference for the people of Afghanistan, and if needed, the rest of the world._

_My Commanding Officer alerted me this afternoon that two of my roommates had been involved in an Improvised Explosive Device (IED). I knew Lieutenant Clark is with the Transportation Command (USTRANSCOM) and doesn't normally go outside the wire. So I knew Lieutenant Anderson and Lieutenant Davis were dead and/or injured. _

_I met up with Clark at Mortuary Affairs where we were briefed that it was Davis who was killed and Anderson was seriously injured and is already being Medical Evacuated (MedEvac) to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center near Ramstein Air Base, Germany where trauma surgeons will finish trimming and suturing his stumps and closing his abdominal wounds, and maybe he'll get to say a few words to his wife over the phone. Our part of this process is to document and pack Anderson's and Davis's personal belongings, and get them to the aircraft that will be carrying Davis to Ramstein, then on to Dover Air Force Base, Delaware. _

_I understand my role in getting these Hero's home is insignificant compared to the sacrifices they did for our country. My job is just to pack and check items off a Checklist. ABUs: check. Civilian cloths: check. Personal protective equipment (PPE): Check. PT cloths: check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ... Check. ..._

_I removed the photos from the wall above Anderson's bed. One was a studio style portrait of him, his wife, and son seating on a rug. He constantly talked about them. He looked so happy and healthy in that photo. Whatever Master Plan he had will have to be revised. With that single step, he may have given up his entire future. He too is a Hero as far I am concerned, but he is a Wounded Warrior. "All gave some,"_

_Clark removed the photos from the wall above Davis's bed. One was a photo of his wife and another an ultrasound picture of an unborn baby girl. A girl who will never get to know her father. Another photo is of his Security team. He was planning a big barbecue for his men and their families when they got home. He is a Fallen Hero. "Some gave all."_

_While Clark and I were packing up their belongings, the Ramp Ceremony Memorial Service was announced over the Giant Voice, the base's public address system._

_My thoughts and prayers will be with their families during these difficult times. One family will be mourning their love one. Another family will worry about their love one. One will be attending their love one's funeral by the end of this week. Another family may not see their love one for several more weeks as he lies in a hospital bed. One young woman is now a widow of a Fallon Hero. Another young woman is now a wife of a Wounded Warrior. One child will never know her father. Another child will have to adapt to the physical, mental, and emotional changes in his father. They will struggle ahead, but their lives will be different from what they had anticipated just months ago._

_The Boeing C-17 Globemaster III cargo compartment was filled with numerous people. The loadmaster was working with Clark's Aerial Port Squadron (APS) personnel on transferring cargo pallets off the K-loaders for their flight out of Bagram to Ramstein. Clark did a spot-check on his men as I watched them push cargo pallets along the cargo floor. He then introduced me to the Loadmaster because there was paperwork that needed to be signed to transfer Anderson and Davis's personal belongings. After it was signed, I watched for a moment as the APS personnel configured the back of the aircraft to receive Davis's casket._

_As we exit the aircraft by the Crew Entrance steps, the Air Force passenger bus was parked in front of the aircraft and was unloading about a dozen passengers. I recognized some from Davis's Security Forces team who were going to escort Davis back to the states. I made eye contact with the lead team member, nodded my head in respect, and he nodded back. I stood next to the steps and watched them board._

_I waited a moment to take it in. I wanted to make certain that I never forget this event. I never want to forget the smell of the cargo compartment, the "Da Dumpt, Da Dumpt" from the cargo pallets as they were pushed from the K-load onto the aircraft's loading ramp, the sight of Military units forming up behind the aircraft, or the sun setting behind the mountains. It's important that we don't forget the sacrifices of our men and women in the service of our country._

_All the other aircraft on the flightline were powered down. The only sound was from the Ground Power Unit attached to this aircraft. The only lights that are on are the ones in this aircraft. The Staging Area Flood Lights mounted under the horizontal stabilizer that are normally used to illuminate the area aft of the aircraft for cargo-handling operations are the only lights illuminating this part of the flightline._

_Our Regional Commander, a Major General, arrived a little earlier by a Black Hawk helicopter, but there was none of the pomp and circumstance that often accompanies the arrival of a two star general. He quietly took his place along with this base's senior leadership._

_For a short while, the war stopped to honor Lieutenant Davis._

_Davis's Security Forces Squadron formed up on both sides of the aircraft's ramp while the other squadrons from his Group moved into formation beside them. All other available personnel from all the military units on base formed up behind them. Clark and I hurried to stand in our respective formations. The formations lined the path that Davis was carried to the aircraft flying him out of Afghanistan toward his final resting place._

_As the ambulance approached, the Wing/Group/Squadron/Flight Leaders called the formations to attention._

_As Davis's casket was carried passed the formations toward the waiting aircraft, the Wing/Group/Squadron/Flight Leaders shouted "Present arms" and everyone saluted. _

_I have only seen photos of military caskets. I had only seen videos of the Ramp Ceremony. Just six Airmen carrying the metal casket with the American flag secured on top. No matter what I do with the rest of my life, that image will always be with me._

_Our salute was held until he was placed inside the aircraft._

_Then the Chaplain and the Commander spoke a few words. They talked of the enormous strain of watching a friend taken from us in his youth, but that his sacrifice wasn't in vain. They talked about the mission, and how the pain will be deal with when we get home._

_After the ceremony, everyone was dismissed and Loadmaster closed up the back of the aircraft. Some of Davis's security team-members approached Clark and me and thank us for helping with the ceremony. They explained what happened._

_The set-it-and-leave pressure-plate is the trigger of choice for IEDs that insurgents like to use. Just two pieces of metal pressed together by the weigh of the victim stepping on it. That completes a circuit allowing current from a battery to detonate the explosives. It could have been there for months, and will strike whoever steps on it. Including Afghan civilians, but the intended targets are the U.S. and International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) personnel who work to make the area safe for the civilians through a combination of security operations, strengthen the local economy, state-building, and just having friendly interactions to win over the local populace._

_Anderson was the fifth man in the patrol to jump across a ditch running along a field. They all jumped across at the same spot, but Anderson landed on the trigger hidden. Maybe it was just a matter of an inch, but the patrol was shaken by four simultaneous explosions._

_The fiery blast of an IED destroys the body like nothing else. Ever worst than car accidents. What was left of Anderson's shredded uniform was soaked with his blood. The lower portion of one of his legs was blown across the ditch. Most of the other was stripped of its flesh. What's left looked like chicken bones after the meat has been gnawed off. His fellow Airmen administered Self Aid Buddy Care (SABC) to him. The Airmen worked quickly, but thoroughly, knowing death would be within minutes. Combat Application Tourniquets (CAT) were applied to his legs to stop the blood loss. Combat Gauze and Emergency Bandages were applied to the wounds to his groin, abdomen, and arms, and saved him from dying right there beside the ditch_

_In addition to his destroyed legs, he has Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) and fractures to his spine from being thrown 20 feet, and dirt, rocks, and filth driven deep into the torn flesh of his groin and abdomen. His first coherent words to the Airmen trying to save his life were, "Hey! Check my nuts!" The lead Airman reported back, "damaged, but intact."_

_Despite the valiant efforts of the Airmen performing SABC on Davis, he died lying in the blood-soaked dirt of Afghanistan._

_Thanks to Standing Operating Procedures (SOP), the men on patrol were spaced out well enough so that no one else was injured._

_While SABC was being administered to Anderson and Davis, the 9-LINE MEDEVAC REQUEST was radioed in. The 9-Line is a report with nine lines of information about the number and status of the patients, the Landing Zone (LZ), any enemy threats, etc. A LZ was re-checked and marked with smoke for the Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) Medevac Helicopters._

_Those choppers are always circling overhead. Sometimes, I can see the Pararescuemen (PJs) legs dangling out of the side doors as they patrol the skies. The PJs are the hardest working paramedics in the world. They fly into any situation no matter what. Mortars, Rockets-Propelled Grenades (RPGs), small arms fire, anything, they will go in and do their best to save a life._

_Those choppers barely touched down and the PJs were already moving. They carried Anderson and Davis on stretchers and disappeared back into the dust storm created by the helicopters downwash. The choppers lifted off and they were gone._

_As Clark, some of Davis's guys, and I walked away from the aircraft that's carrying Davis toward his finial resting place; we talked about him, his character, his accomplishments, and how well we liked him. We talked about little things. Things that brought back good memories and some chuckles._

_I wish every American could have seen what I have seen, but as usual, the American public will never know most of what we do. To see the people, the time, and the efforts that go into ensuring our Wounded Warriors get the best medical care and our Fallen Heroes have an honorable return. It is our way of recognizing the sacrifice and loss of our brothers and sisters in arms. Though there may not have been any media coverage, Davis's death did not go unnoticed, and those who served with him will not forget him. _

_Love Freddie_

* * *

><p>Without saying anything, I feel my brother wrap his arms around me as tears fill my eyes.<p>

A/N: While researching this, I could not verify how personal belongings would be handled, and this is the only reasonable way I could get Freddie involved in events like this. I put him in a non-combat career field, and he would not go on patrols with Security. Anderson is in Intelligence, and would go off base to gather intelligence. The information in Freddie's letter came from numerous news reports, on-line personal blogs, and others first hand experiences.


	9. Chapter 9 iFly

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – Lieutenant Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's 1st letter from Afghanistan. Carly's day as a volunteer. Freddie phones home. The letter from Freddie about Lieutenants Anderson and Davis.

Freddie has been deployed about 5 months.

Myself and about fifty other women are waiting in the nostalgically adorned secure departure area of the PAX Terminal. The wood paneling and silver art-deco lettering remind me of an old train station. Except, instead of artworks and photos of trains, the walls are covered with aviation maps and photographs of aircraft that have been assigned to this Air Force Base. The room is full of excitement and chatter of women ready for an experience normally done by the men in our lives. We exchange names, talk about our husbands, any children, and every woman I talk with has experienced a deployment, and for some many deployments, of their military husbands. Some commented on how they didn't really know what their husband's job entailed, even though their husband would try to explain it to them.

Today's mission officially begins with a briefing from a Colonel wearing a desert tan flight suit. He briefs us about the history, organizational structure, missions and goals of the base. He talks about how these flights are a way to familiarize military spouses with the base's primary mission of global airlift, our husbands' role in accomplishing that mission, and for us to gain a better understanding of the long hours and extensive training they must go through.

A Captain wearing an olive green flight suit gives us a mission briefing. He warns us that the plane will be much noisier than a commercial airliner, a lot less comfortable, and nothing like we see in the movies. That this orientation flight will give us an opportunity to learn what an Airman's job entails during a routine flight, and that we will have the privilege of seeing the flight-crew's training and skills put to work.

An armed Technical Sergeant, wearing an Airman Battle Uniform, gives us the pre-flight security briefing, with an added warning that his Taser and handgun are real.

A Senior Airman, also wearing the Airman Battle Uniform, entertains us for a while with a demonstration on using night vision goggles. The now dark room fills with the sounds of "oohs" and "ahhs" as the night vision goggles are pass around to seen lights that can only be seen with the goggles.

Afterwards, we are transported by an Air Force passenger bus to a waiting C-17 Globemaster III.

I pause near the nose of that C-17 and I look up at this massive, gray, industrial looking airplane. This plane is huge with four jet engines large enough for an man to walk through, housed in nacelles suspended out on cantilever pylons below but well forward of the high-mounted swept-wings. I can see U.S. AIR FORCE is painted on the side as our group is escorted to the aircraft's stairs.

After reaching the top of the stairs, I join the others who are already exploring the inside of this plane. It's brightly light, but smells like an auto service center with its hydraulic fluids and jet fuel. The interior looks more like grandpa's attic, than the inside of a sophisticated aircraft. Light gray padded insulation covers all exposed surfaces, with wiring, plumbing, and tubing running along the surface of the curved ceiling. The lower half of the sides of the cargo area have solid walls with build in electric panels and storage bins. Running down both sides of the cargo area are seats made of steal and black nylon. Half-dozen large cargo pallets form a barrier between the right and left sides of the aircraft.

I ask one of the eight lucky spouses who won the pre-flight lottery to ride on the flight deck during the takeoff or landing phases of this mission, "Have you ever done this before?"

Excitedly she replies, "No, but this should be fun. Sure beats going to work!"

Minutes later, "Ladies," a voice over the loudspeakers, "we are about to start the aircraft takeoff procedures. Please chose a seat, fasten your seat belts, and get ready for takeoff."

I choose a seat about halfway down the left side of the aircraft and secured the economy style lap seatbelt in preparation for takeoff.

The spouse next to me said, "Seating in one of these seats helps me understand my husband's journey to Afghanistan. He talked about these seats!"

I can see her eyes held the same sadness that I feel for my Freddie.

The Loadmaster gives us the pre-flight safety briefing where he explains various safety precautions and emergency procedures. Afterwards, he gives each of us a small box with one pair of yellow earplugs, and instructs us to put them in our ears because the pilots are about to start the engines.

After hearing each jet engine roar to life one at a time, and listing to them for about 15 minutes. A burst from the four jet engines initiates forward movement, and this warehouse with wings starts moving.

My hands check the tightness of my seatbelt, but it's not that I was afraid of flying.

This gray lumbering leviathan moves forward slowly. The uneven surface of the taxiway causes the aircraft to rumble and jiggle, and after about 10 more minutes, and several turns, the aircraft comes to a stop. Seconds later, the sounds from the jet engines changes from their steady roar to screams as this gray whale starts accelerating down the runway and picks up speed. The noises of the runway under the wheels grow with the speed until this great gray bird grabs air and takes to the sky.

The air cools as we ascend. The pilot made his almost indecipherable announcement over the aircraft loudspeakers, "Good morning again Ladies, this is your Captain speaking. We are now climbing to our cruising altitude and should arrive at Fairchild in about one hour. The weather there is warm and sunny, not to difference from the weather we've just left behind. I hope you enjoy your flight and thank you."

After leveling off at cruising altitude, the FASTEN SEAT BELT signs turn off. For many of us, this is the first time inside an operating military aircraft, and we take the opportunity to explore the plane, look out the few small windows, take photos, and cycle through the cockpit to meet the pilot and co-pilot. The roar of the jet engines make it practicable impossible to have a regular conversation with any of the other passengers.

With my turn to visit the cockpit, I take a deep breath and make my way up the steep steps to the cockpit and I find that it is about the size of a small RV. The staircase enters the flight deck through the floor of the crew rest area. Two bunk beds are built into the back wall, with a round window looking back into the cargo area. Two seats, on the pilot's side of this small room, face backwards. The cockpit itself is a little larger, with the pilot on the left, the co-pilot on the right, and two moveable seats behind them. I slide into the seat on the right. Another woman takes the other seat. The Captain from this morning preflight briefing hands us headsets.

The Captain starts talking into the mouthpiece of his headsets that all four of us can hear over our headsets. "Good-morning ladies. Enjoying the flight so far?"

"It's exciting, but a little nerve racking not being able to see what going on outside," I answer.

"It's neat, but a little scary for me too," the other woman voice over my headsets. "I couldn't even sleep last night! I'm really excited to see what type of work my husband does. I definitely have a greater respect for his job."

"It takes the hard work," the Captain's voice over my headsets, "and dedication of a lot of service members to keep aircraft flying. We wouldn't be able to accomplish what we do without the crews that maintain this aircraft, and all the others who coordinate the cargo, supplies, and aircrews."

While he talks, my eyes are attracted to the spectacular view outside the front windows. "This has to be one of the most amazing things I've ever had the privilege to experience," as puffy white clouds drift by. In the heaven above, a clear blue sky accented by a few wispy of clouds. On the earth below, a vast green forest spreads outs before us all the way to the horizon. "The view is breathtaking. It is really incredible being up here," I quietly say.

"You get used to it," the Captain answers.

As I settle back into my seat, I thought about those long flights my husband made to get from the United States to Afghanistan. Maybe all that time in the air wasn't so bad after all. No annoying kids or obnoxious old ladies complaining about how the service was better in the old days.

But the constant noise from the jet engines might drive you craze, as we continue on to the next base offload those cargo pallets.

The plane makes some turns to line up with the runway. The plane starts descending, and we have the momentary sensation like going quickly down in an elevator. As we continue dropping earthward, the human cargo becomes ever more vigilant for the sudden changes in movement that we were warned about during the mission briefing. The landing gear doors open and more rushing noises start as the wheels drop into the airstream. The plane takes a sharp lunge downward, and I tightened my seat belt some more. The human cargo rides out the final bumps and bounces until the plane's wheels finally slam down on the runway. Seconds later, the sounds from the jet engines changes from their steady roar to screams as this grounded airplane rapidly decelerates down the runway.

After the plane comes to a complete stop, the loadmaster walks down the cargo area, opens the rear cargo ramp, and releases the locks that have been holding the pallets in place during this flight. We hear the jet engines run up to full power, and then the brakes are released. The plane jerks forward and the cargo pallets race out the back of the plane. Like the magic trick where a tablecloth is ripped off the table without upsetting the dishes. The pallets stay still, and the aircraft shoots forward.

"Ladies, we are about to take off again," announces the loadmaster as he closes the cargo ramp.

Fifteen minutes later, the fifty plus of us are once again 'flying the friendly skies.'

As the plane forces its way through the limitless sky, I watch the endless Earth drift below. Minutes seem like hours as I stare through one of the little windows at the landscape below and see uncountable miles of patchwork quilt farmland dissolve into the horizon, punctuated by a occasional glint of sun reflecting off the ponds or lakes that dot the Earth. My eyes find some interstate highway below with numerous little slow moving cars and trucks heading in both directions. I watch the villages and towns pass by and notice they are like anthills. Land dwellers scurrying about totally unaware that they are being watched from above. Our journey has no affect on their busy lives and most won't notice us as we fly by.

Far off on the horizon, an ominous thunderstorm with its muscular cumulonimbus body and anvil-shaped top is pouring rain and lightening on those below it. Up close, the noise and flash from that thunderstorm must be spectacular. From here, occasional flashes of the more powerfully lightening bolts illuminate the inside of the storm. Not that I was an expert on weather, but living in an 8th floor apartment with large windows and knowing how to get on the roof of the building, has certainly given me a fair view of the sky. From dead calm to insidiously angry, I've always been fascinated by the clouds. I would spend hours watching clouds drift by. I would watch every lightning storm brighten the sky. I've become something of a student of the sky, but a relatively uneducated one.

I look at the wing, and those massive jet engines, as it slowly flaps in the air but otherwise looks as stiff as a board. Once time, Freddie tried to explain the aerodynamic forces of flight. How the interaction of weight, lift, drag, and thrust can keep tons of metal in the air. But why ruin the magic with science.

On the ground below, life goes on as normal.

Here, miles above the Earth, all is well.

After about an hour in the air, the FASTEN SEAT BELT signs turn on and the attitude of the plane changes with a slight nose-up instead of the level position the aircraft has maintained since reaching cruising altitude. The slow descent has started. I can feel the air pressure starting to buildup in my ears as we lose altitude. There are a couple of barely noticeable changes of direction as the aircraft maneuvers itself into line with the runway. The landing gear doors open and the rushing noise starts again as the wheels drop into the airstream. With expert skill, the pilots guide the aircraft to a perfect landing. The wheels seem to kiss the runway as we settle gently onto the Earth. It was a satisfying landing to an interesting flight.

After parking and engine shutdown. The cargo doors open, and as we walk down the cargo ramp we hear a voice over the aircraft's speakers, "Welcome to Forward Operating Base Picnic."


	10. Chapter 10 iPicnic

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – Lieutenant Benson has left for his first deployment to Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Mrs. Benson got Carly out of the apartment and she had lunch with Angela, and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's 1st letter from Afghanistan. Carly's day as a volunteer. Freddie phones home. The letter from Freddie about Lieutenants Anderson and Davis.

Freddie has been deployed about 5 months.

While myself and the other military wives where flying on a C-17 for our Spouse Orientation Flight. Most of the bases service members and their families gathered to celebrate Family Day. Events include golf tournament, live music, inflatable carnival games, rides in the Mini C-17 (a customized golf cart rebuild to look like the military transport airplane), a 5K on the runway and other track and field competitions, and other activities geared toward service members and their families. Additionally, numerous organizations like the American Red Cross, Department of Veterans Affairs, Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve, Military Child Education, the USO, and many others came out to support the event, providing information on benefits and programs available to Airmen and their families.

After our escorted walk from the airplane, I reported for duty at the headquarters tent, where I received an Information Booklet, and met with the other two wives who volunteered, but in my case I got volunteered by my mother-in-law. We formed up with 24 young girls, all wearing Airman Battle Uniforms, to receive briefings about our deployed location. During this briefing, a female Airman taught the children about the geography in Afghanistan, a few key words of the native language, examples of some traditional clothing, and the children ask her questions about life at a Forward Operating Base because she has been deployed to Afghanistan several times.

According to our Information Booklet, this part of the Family Day program "gives military children the opportunity to experience a deployment in a unique way and is designed to reduce the unknown in their life by giving them a better understanding of the locations where their Mom or Dad is deploy and get a glimpse into deployment life by spending the night at Forward Operating Base (FOB) Picnic."

My mission for the rest of the day was to help chaperon the 24 young girls around the FOB Picnic.

The first scheduled event was a Commander's Call just before lunch. During the Commander's Call, Angela was promoted within the Airman & Family Readiness program. "The volunteers of the Family Readiness help military families with the resources they need to limit the stress of deployments. Our family members serve just as much as the Airmen do, and they need to know how much their service means to our mission, our commanders and all the Airmen on base," she said during her acceptant speech. The Commander added, "Angela has absolutely been an integral part on the morale and welfare activities on this base, along with deployment outreach and helping answer questions from family members." "It's never too late to volunteer to help others when their love one goes overseas. Deployments can happen at any time, so we have to be ready," said Angela, now the chairwoman of some committee.

We even had a guest of honor, our old U.S. Senator, who gave a nice little speech about how gut wrenching it is for him to write letters of condolences, or attend memorial services for our Fallen Heroes. Politicians can talk all they want, but they really have no idea what it's like to have a husband or a child die in battle, or to live with the dread that it might happen.

Later when Angela introduced to him to me, "This must be the woman behind Lt. Benson ...Mrs. Benson, I presume."

I bit my tongue, but it stilled ruffled my feathers because I am a success in my own right and I am much more than just a military wife, but the Senator being an older gentlemen and in control of some of our Federal money, so I simply replied, "Yes, Senator, you presume correctly."

Surprisingly, the food was pretty good, even if a mobile army kitchen cooked it.

Later, I was able to relax for a short while as some of the girls perform Self Aid Buddy Care training with me as the injured patient. Apparently I had a bleeding head injury that required dressing and bandaging, a sling for a left arm fracture, splints for a broken right leg, and another dressing and bandaging for burns on my right arm. I did not let them practice Airway Management on me.

While the girls were given a guided tour of the plane that I flew on this morning, I sat down in one of the side seats to take my weight off my feet and to re-lace my combat boots. The combat boots Freddie made me get after last year's camping trip to search for Bigfoot, but I haven't worn them enough to break them in.

The biggest event for the girls was the trip to the firing range located on the other side of the base. We got to ride in a military convoy made up of a several Humvees (High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicles) and a couple of MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicles. Room in a MRAP is tight, and I had to twist my way around to look out the little windows just to watch cars zip past us as we make our way through the on-base traffic.

At the firing range, half a dozen Security Forces guys, distinguish by their dark blue berets with its falcon over an airfield emblem and the motto "Defensor Fortis", briefed us on many of the armored vehicles, equipment, and weapons (but no bullets) that we would encounter if we deployed.

By the time we were heading back to the FOB, the sun was just starting to set and we arrived just in time for another wonderfully prepared US Army style dinner.

* * *

><p>"Stand down girls, relax and top off on your spirits," Senior Master Sergeant Evans, the military leader of our group, orders as she opens a small cooler full of ice-cold cans of beer. "Drink while you can, for tomorrow morning we have to get those girls out of bed, showered, dressed, and fed before their parents pick them up," as she hands each of us a beer.<p>

I pull up on the tap and bring that can of beer to my lips. The bitter, ice cold, slightly acidic liquid flows down my throat and cools my abdomen as it hits my stomach. "God, I haven't had a beer in months," as I put my beer in the cup holder of my folding camping chair. "My loving mother-in-law," seating to my right, "is afraid I will become an alcoholic."

"Been there. Done that. I don't want my beautiful daughter-in-law going through that mess and I will be driving home soon, so no thanks for the beer."

As everyone starts laughing and continues drinks their beers, I roll up the legs of my military pants, and begin to unlace my combat boots. After marching (walking) with our flight (group) of girls in formation (sort of) from event to event all afternoon under the blazing sun (thankfully it wasn't too hot), I'm now in desperate need of a foot massage. I grip the heel of the left boot and manage to tug it off, then the right one. Grabbing hold of the top of the left green boot sock, I pull it off, and then the right one. I wiggle my toes, and then I slide my hands down my legs to start massaging my sore feet. The lesson learned today is to wear combat boots more often to break them in and don't get a pedicure the day before wearing them.

"During my late husband's first deployment to Afghanistan," Mrs. Benson said, "Family Readiness was an unorganized, all-volunteer service, but I was thankful I had a group of military wives to turn to for support. We didn't have organized family events like this. When Freddie deployed, I knew Carly would have an easier time and get to know other families," she added.

"Events like this are good opportunities for families to get to know others who are going through the same thing," from our Family Readiness counselor. "Most kids in America kiss Mom or Dad bye in the morning, and see them again when they sit down for dinner that evening."

"Yea right," from the older Asian lady seating on the other side of the campfire. "You're lucky if you can get them to seat down with you just to eat breakfast and dinner. I've got one son in college and my other son is over in the boy's group."

"True," the counselor replies, "but military children can go months without seeing one, or sometimes both, parents. For some, it can be more than a year of missed birthdays, holidays, bedtime stories, and family time together."

"Believe me I know." I take another sip from my beer. "My career Air Force Dad is now a General. I know the reality of being a military kid, and now I am a military wife dealing with my husband's first deployment. With the lost of my Mom and Dad gone all the time, I have been pretty much raised by my older brother, so I never had a normal teenager's life."

"My youngest son has had his Dad OCONUS (Outside the Contiguous United States) more than he has had him CONUS (Contiguous United States) during his life."

"Military kids have given up normalcy, and constantly have to adapt. And with the 24/7 live news, the unfortunate experience of some of their friends, they have to live with the fact that Mom or Dad might never come home."

"This is my daughter's first time dealing with her dad's deploying," from the other woman who looks to be only a few years old than me. "She's the youngest girl in our group. It's been hard to explain to her where, what, and why her Dad had to go. I'm hoping this camp will enable her to better understand where he's at, what he's doing, and realize that she is not the only one going through this."

"When Freddie phones from Afghanistan, he makes it sound like an adventure. His letters are a little more detailed about what happening around him. But usually he just talks and writes about the food, the people, the work, but nothing about any real danger."

"My son is not going to tell you everything like that because he doesn't want you to worry."

"After going through five long tour deployments since 9/11," as she crushes her empty beer can in her hands, "the worst pain is when I think about home, think about the people I love, and then try to block it out. For I am an Airman who provides security for my fellow Airman, my family, and my country."

"Sorry girls," finishing off a bottle of water, "but I am too old to sleep in an army tent on a military issue folding cot. Carly, I guess I will see you tomorrow night after my work shift. Good night girls," as she walks away.

"Good night Mrs. B.," everyone shouted at the same time.

"Carly, my college age son was a fan of your old web-show, even though your lowest common denominator style humor did not appeal to me, but my son enjoyed it. I was surprised that you and your tech producer got together. I remember the blond girl always making fun of his crush on you. My son thought he would get with her. So how did you too get together?"

"For him, it was love at first sight, and we were in the sixth grade when that happened. I spend the next five years turning him down and exploiting his feelings for me. But no matter what, Freddie has always been there for me and I felt safe and protected when he's around. He is someone who I can laugh with, cry with, talk shit about other people with, and trust that he will never tell. When things were bad, he would hug me and tell me everything would be okay and he would find a way to make things right. Sometimes when I was down, he will just seat with me on the couch and watch the Blu-Ray gift box of Girly Cow, even though I know he thinks it's a stupid cartoon. Then one Friday afternoon, on that couch, it just happened. I realize I'm in love with my best friend and we have been together ever since." I drink some more of my beer. I'm not even going to try to explain the dynamics of our Bondage & Discipline/Sadism & Masochism marriage to these women I just met this morning. "We have this bond that I never experienced with anyone else, and believe me; I fell in love with a lot of idiot boyfriends during those five years. I sure don't deserve him after all the things I have done to him, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am the girl he deserves." I drink the last of my beer. "Freddie is an officer and a gentleman, but can casually whisper in my ear asking about a quickie at a fancy dress party. God, I miss the sex."

"For me it was the sexy bad-boy type, but I think it was just to piss off my overly strict father. But, instead of dumping him like I planned; I fell for him, hook, line and sinker. We got married right after we graduated from the Japanese version of high school, and we went through some tough times, but we were in love, cuddling together in that one-room apartment. All that cuddling got me pregnant with the one that is now in college. He worked in a gang and was making some damn good money, but the gang life eventually got him killed. I ended up waitressing to support my child, and that was how I had met my husband. He was a Senior Airman stationed at the Yokota Air Base. He come in every day for a week and asked to be served by me before he asked me for a date. I was still hurting, even after two years, so I politely declined. He nodded and left me alone, or he would have, had it not been for my son who had watched him flirt with me all week. So he took it upon himself to find me some happiness. He marched over to that strange man from another country, and neither one will tell me what was said, but he ask me out again and that he has my sons permission to date me. After a year of dating, we got married. A year and a half later we PCSed back to the States. A few years later, boy number two came into the world."

"My marriage started with an innocent email. One of the girls I worked with gave me her brother's e-mail. His best friend at Tech School didn't get much contact from home and only seemed to be close to the guys in his Squadron. The guys decided to recruit a pen pal for him. This began a series of emails exchanging life stories and photos, then care packages and hand written letters. We discovered all these things we had in common. We even shared a few phone calls, and during one late night call I discovered that he has never really been in love, and neither had I. We were both searching for 'the one' and we started planning on how to meet. Neither one of us could just take off from work long enough to travel to other's state. Fate seemed to be against us. Then one morning, on my regular day off, an IM window pops up from him asking if I wanted to have breakfast at the local diner he is seating in. After six months, we are going to meet face to face. I start freaking out, but I didn't pause for a moment. I told him 30 minutes and logged off. I striped out of my pajamas into my favorite jeans, boots, button up shirt over a tank top, and run a hairbrush through my messy hair. I was so nervous, that before I knew it, I was at the restaurant, and there he was. He is now deployed to the Horn of Africa, and my mom is babysitting our daughter tonight."

"I guess for me, I'm like what your husband experienced. It was love at first sight. It was during my senior year of college. Some of my college girl friends and I were bar hopping during our Girls Night Out. My world stopped the moment I saw him walk into the bar. A soldier in uniform and I said something like 'I saw him first, so he's mine!' as he was heading our way. One of the girls kicked me under the table, 'He's my brother!' Well, he has been making me laugh ever since, and believe me, I miss his touch."

"I'm sure you have heard the quote about war that goes something like 'war is long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror'. That pretty much sums it up over there. Living conditions at some FOBs can be primitive, whether it's located out in the field or in a town. There are hours, sometimes days, where nothing happens. Then, when something does happen, the adrenaline starts pumping, and things get dam serious. Well, my husband, before he was my husband, and I made the boring times more interesting. Okay ladies, last round," as she hands out the last of the beer.


	11. Chapter 11 iReturn

Disclaimer and Warning: See Chapter 1.

Previously – This story is part of the "iLifestyle" series and at this point in the future, Carly and Freddie are legally married and have graduated college. Second Lieutenant Freddie Benson has left for his first deployment to Afghanistan and Carly freaked out a little. Mrs. Benson is helping her adjust to living the military lifestyle. Carly and Mrs. Benson made a care package for Freddie. Carly had lunch with Angela and they talked about being a military wife. Carly and Sam talk, then read Freddie's letter. Carly does some volunteer work on base. Freddie phoned home. Another letter from Freddie. Carly gets an opportunity to learn what an airman's job entailed during a spouse flight orientation flight, and spends the day at Forward Operating Base Picnic.

Freddie has been deployed about 6 months.

I have spent the last hour seating on one of the picnic tables at the "Heritage Hill" airpark watching the sunrise over Mount Rainier. My eyes start tracking a lone C-17 as it passes that mountain and starts turning for its final approach into McChord.

I toss my half-eaten Burger King Breakfast Value Meal, that I picked up before I came to the airpark, into a trash can as I walk back to my car.

I park the car several rows back from the main entrance to the PAX Terminal. I fought the tears that were beginning to form and I blink rapidly to keep them under control. This is suppose to be a happy occasion and I don't wouldn't to ruin it by crying, even if they are tears of happiness. Once I regain control of my emotions, I step out and lock the car, and walk toward the terminal. I can see where the other families are gathering through the big front windows.

As I walk through the main entrance, my heart begins beating faster. I made my way over to stand with the rest of the waiting wives, a few husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, brothers, sisters, Moms, Dads, and children waiting for their love one to return. A lot of the little kids are holding small flags or welcome home signs for their Mommy or Daddy, but seeing several newborn babies in the arms of their Mothers waiting to introduce them to their Daddy, nearly brought tears to my eyes.

I think to myself that if his Dad were still alive, I know he would be as proud of him as I am! Then I realized how fast time flies. I have lost count of many goodbyes and homecomings my Dad and I have been through. But I will never forget Freddie's first deployment six months ago, or standing here waiting for my husband to return Home from War.

I'm trying not to be impatient, and I try to exchange pleasantries with some of the others that I have made friends with over the last six months as they try to talk to me, but I couldn't stop myself from glancing at my pear-phone every few seconds.

It vibrated.

FROM: Freddie MESSAGE: C17 parkd. wl B on bus sn.

I quickly type a reply: IL B w8N at d PAX

Finally, the Air Force bus stops at the door facing the flightline, and time seems to stop. I stood my ground as one military person after another steps off the bus into the Terminal and into the screaming loving arms of wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, Mothers, Fathers, sons or daughters who have been waiting for months, or a year, for their safe return. After what seemed like forever, but in reality was no more than a minute or two, he steps off the bus.

I take off towards him like a bat outta hell.

A smile takes over his face as he drops his carry-on and pulls me into his arms. "God, Miss Carly, I've missed you so much," he whispers into my ear.

I couldn't stop the tears from flowing down my face. My broken heart is whole again. "I missed you too," I whisper through my tears and tighten my arms around him. I feel his hand under my shirt stroking the small of my back. It sent chills up my spine and reignites that fire below my belly that been smoldering for six months. It's been so long since I've had even that simple touch and I want more. I run my fingers through his short military style haircut. Is this real or a dream?

"It's me, Miss Carly, I swear," between kisses on my neck.

I just close my eyes, take his words in, and kiss him. A soft, sweet kiss that says so much more than I love you, but still just right for a public place.

After grabbing his duffel bag off the luggage carousel, we head out to the parking lot with our arms around each other, while chatting about trivial stuff. "How was the flight?"

"My flights included stops at Ramstein, Dover, and then home. They were all long flights, but I had my notebook for entertainment or I slept. So they were not too bad."

We chat about the movies and games he has on his computer. All the while, sharing little kisses until we make it to the car. I drive back to Bushwell Plaza, all the while sneaking glances at him with the excuse of checking the passenger side mirror. He keeps reminding me to keep my eyes on the road. I see his ABUs are a little wrinkled from riding in cargo planes from the other side of the world. I tell him about how Spencer and I are remodeling my old bedroom for Sam's and his baby, who is due in about a month. At one point, he puts his hand on my knee, and the car momentary jumps in speed.

Freddie giggles, "Miss Carly, how much did you miss me?" he asks while sliding a finger along the my thigh and under the hem of my skirt. "Is this the skirt and tank top from that all girl party when Melanie and Shelby visited? I don't remember the black vest."

"Yes," in the most seductive tone I can while driving. "At first, I wasn't going to wear the vest, but your Mother reminded me that there will be other wives and children there. The rest of my clothes are the same ones you choose for me that day."

Freddie closed his eyes and let out a just audible moan.

I feel his fingers move my skirt higher. "A little later," as I slap his hand, "you will find out how much I miss you."

"Miss Carly," with a tilt of his head and puppy dog face imploring me not tell him no, "I have been in that desert with mostly guys for six months. Just spend 20 some odd hours flying in the back of three different cargo planes over the last three or four days. I am not even sure what day it is, but we only have two weeks together before I have to head back."

"Believe me, you are not the only one who's gone without, and we will make up for lost time. But first you have to say hi to our friends and family before we do anything else."

After parking the car in my favorite parking spot in the Bushwell Plaza parking garage, I turn to look at his sexy profile and I have to remind myself that I have spent a long time planning the next two weeks. "Welcome home," I quietly, seductively tell him.


End file.
